Concussion
by phantomeyeswriter
Summary: After getting injured during a case, Hotch is determined to keep Reid awake. Things don't go quite as Reid expected. Reid/Hotch...sort of.


**Concussion**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds (obviously).**

The myth that a patient must stay awake after a concussion had long been disproven, but for once, Spencer didn't correct anyone.

The throbbing in Spencer's head had died down to a dull ache by the time the plane touched down at Quantico. Spencer felt well enough that he could have finished his paperwork before heading for his apartment. But when Hotch said he was immediately bringing Spencer back to his house to keep him awake and watch over him for worsening symptoms, Spencer didn't argue.

They climbed into Hotch's SUV and pulled out of the FBI office garage.

"How is your head now?" Hotch asked, just like he'd asked every ten minutes for the entire trip back from Texas.

"Still aching," Reid replied. "But better."

"You took a painkiller three hours ago. You'll want to take another dose soon."

"I don't think that's necessary. I can just rest."

Hotch looked at him quickly. "Not with a concussion," he said. "You need to stay awake."

Spencer opened his mouth to argue but the words never came. The idea of being alone with Hotch was too good of an opportunity to pass up—headache or no.

They spent the rest of the trip in silence. Hotch wouldn't even turn on the radio for fear it would aggravate Spencer's headache.

Hotch's phone range as they pulled into the driveway. Spencer listened to Hotch's side of the conversation as they climbed out of the car and made their way into the house. It was definitely case-related. Spencer sighed when he saw Hotch glance his way then lower his voice. Some of Spencer's optimism dissipated when he thought of Hotch keeping secrets from him. But then he saw Hotch's worry and concern and the hopeful anticipation rushed right back.

Spencer sat down on Hotch's couch and waited for his boss to finish his phonecall and join him. He tried to be patient as he watched Hotch move to the kitchen and turn on the light. He'd purposely left the living room dim.

Spencer leaned his head back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. His perfect memory replayed the accident that had led to his concussion. He could see the unsub charging toward him, feel the impact as he was knocked back, hear the hollow ring of his head hitting concrete. Then the world turned black until he woke up in the ambulance, Hotch by his side.

"Spencer?"

Reid opened his eyes and saw that Hotch was once again by his side. He was watching his subordinate with concern. He gently took a cool washcloth and pressed it against Spencer's forehead. It made Spencer smile.

"How is your head?" Hotch asked.

"Better," Spencer answered. He reached up and took hold of the cloth, brushing Hotch's hand.

"You need to stay awake," Hotch said. "We need to keep you awake for the next 24 hours."

"20 hours and 34 minutes," Reid corrected.

Hotch chuckled and gave Spencer one of his rare smiles. He seemed so at ease here. He was still Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, protector of the innocent and defender of the defenseless. But here, in this house, on this couch, he became Aaron: the man Spencer Reid had been in love with for years.

"Are you hungry?" Hotch asked.

"Coffee?" Spencer replied with a hopeful grin.

"Almost ready. You should eat some real food too. I'll see what I have."

He got up from the couch and headed back to the kitchen.

Spencer refolded the wet rag, finding a cooler side and pressing it against his throbbing head. He leaned back again, closing his eyes.

The next thing he felt was the kiss. It was warm and soft against his lips. He could smell Hotch's aftershave and feel his smooth skin against his cheek. Next came the tongue soft against Spencer's lips, politely asking for entrance. The moment Reid's lips parted, he could taste coffee, cream, and sugar, just the way Hotch liked it.

Spencer kept his eyes closed, even when he felt Hotch's arms around him, manipulating his body to get him to lie flat on the couch. He felt Hotch's weight settle over him, pressing him into the couch in a way that was warm and comforting. Spencer lifted his hands and ran them through Hotch's silken hair. Hotch kept one hand on Spencer's neck. The other found a gap where Spencer's shirt had untucked from his pants. Hotch's fingers slipped under the fabric to rub at Spencer's skin, making the young man shiver in pleasure.

Spencer's breathing picked up as Hotch's lips moved from his mouth to his jaw, then down the side of his neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh. Spencer's head arched back as he accepted every kiss, every touch from Hotch. He tried to speak, but his voice was lost among panting and hissing as Hotch's hands and lips caressed his skin.

For the first time Spencer could remember, his mind was blank. Words, statistics, facts, all of it was pushed aside, replaced by the feeling of Hotch. He'd spent years daydreaming about what this would feel like. This experience went beyond anything he had imagined.

Hotch's lips returned to his own. Each stroke of the tongue, warm breath, soft moan, left Spencer wanting more. He moved his hands down to Hotch's shoulders and then arms, feeling the defined muscles through Hotch's clothing. He shifted, adjust his legs so that Hotch rested easily between his knees. The movement caused Hotch to groan.

Spencer arched his spine and Hotch's hand slipped around to his back, rubbing circles across his skin, moving lower until just his fingertips slipped below the waistband of Spencer's slacks, teasing and testing for a reaction. Spencer's breathing quickened in response. He wanted more contact. He wanted Hotch. He'd wanted this for years. He almost couldn't believe this was happening. Was this really happening?

"Spencer? You need to stay awake."

Spencer opened his eyes. He was sitting on Hotch's couch, his head thrown back and resting against the cushions.

Hotch stood before him holding two mugs of coffee. He looked curious and slightly worried with one eyebrow arched.

"Did you fall asleep?" Hotch asked.

Spencer checked himself. His throat felt raw from panting, his lips and tongue felt swollen, he could even still sense the tingling on his skin from gentle caresses. Above it all, he felt the throbbing headache caused by a concussion.

"Yes," Spencer said. "I think I fell asleep."

Hotch offered Spencer the coffee. "You need to stay awake. This will help."

Spencer took the mug then watched his boss move over to a chair across the room and sit down, picking up the TV remote.

"Probably not a lot on right now, but we can find something to keep us awake and entertained."

Spencer nodded, not caring that it sent a jolt of pain through his head. "I'm sure we'll find something," he agreed halfheartedly.

"As long as it keeps you awake," Hotch said.

Spencer thought about the dream. Only a dream caused by a concussion. Perhaps there was some truth to the myth that patients must stay awake after a head injury, just for different reasons than medical research taught.

"I don't think staying awake will be a problem tonight," he said, then sipped his coffee and ignored the TV.

**A/N: This was my first stab at slash. How did I do?**


End file.
